Four Months
by greekprophet
Summary: Loki has an entirely different motivation for his actions in the movie. Dark fic based on Ed Sheeran's "small" bump so no happy ending. WARNINGS: Violence, M-Preg, Character death, Dark Fic.


**So this is quite a dark story. I don't usually write in this genre but I decided to go with it when the idea popped into my head. It's a songfic and it doesn't have a happy ending.**

**Warnings: violence, m-preg, character death, dark fic**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own, Don't profit, Don't sue! Also don't own, or profit from, Ed Sheeran's "Small bump".**

Four months

_You were just a small bump unborn, four months then brought to life. _

His armour hid the gentle swell of his body as it adjusted to changes foreign to the males of his homeland. He has never understand how he, a Jotun raised by Asgardians, could have an ability found in neither species. The father of his child was a human but he doesn't know it exists. He probably doesn't remember the pale, lean man he took home four months earlier. Loki couldn't explain the impulse but he was glad he had given in to it. He had considered killing the human but had left him living and he still couldn't explain why. The child would never have to know, after all. Still, something had stopped him when he went to end a life no more significant than any of the other seven billion that scurried blindly over the surface of Midgard. It was only later that he realised the truth.

He was holding onto the hope that his child would favour a father they would never meet.

He watched the human and realised that they were polar opposites. Blond and tanned the man smiled and greeted his neighbours with genuine happiness. Loki wanted to claim that he was the better out of them both but something about the life growing inside him had skewed his perception. This human, with his simple, unimaginative, _plain_ lifestyle, seemed far more content than the God had ever been. So he left him living and hoped that their baby would be born blond and as content as their human father.

_I'll hold your body in my hands, be as gentle as I can._

He doesn't notice how he's changed until a minor skirmish with a species he had no interest in subduing. They challenged him and in response he attacked as viciously as he was planning on attacking Midgard. It wasn't until he got closer that he realised that their weaponry was far more advanced than anything Earth had to offer. Normally he would revel in the chance to subdue them, despite the challenge, but he was fleeing before he even thought about it: backing down from the chance that his child would suffer any hurt. For the first time in his life he backed away from the chance to show his own superiority. He left behind a copy of himself only long enough to evade his attackers and escape. The need to protect was almost a surprise. He had almost forgotten how it felt to be responsible for another's life when they were so completely vulnerable.

He wondered how his brother would feel were he to see how he has changed. He knows he should see himself as weak but weakness is an abomitation in his eyes and he cannot see his child as an abomination. Others might but he can feel nothing in his heart but love. He should hate the child for what they are doing but he can no more hate them than he can deny his Jotun heritage. They are as much a part of him as the genetics that led to his father's hatred for him.

_I'll hold you tightly, I'll give you nothing but truth. If you're not inside me, I'll put my future in you._

Somedays he wondered about human women. He wondered if they felt the same way as their children grew inside them. Did they have the same love, the same pride, the same protective instincts? And what of their fathers? How could they understand what it is to have another heart beating inside their bodies? There was no doubt that the bond between parent and child was as profound on Midgaurd as it was in Asgard. He doesn't know how members of his own species feel for their children. After all, he was left for Odin to find and take. Did his parents mourn him? He wonders that sometimes but feels that they cannot have cared as much as he wants them to. After all, they allowed him to be taken as if he was worthless to them. He's certain he'll never allow his own child to be taken by the enemy. He will raise them as he wishes he was raised. Perhaps in avoiding all the mistakes his parents made he will be able to raise a child who will make none of the mistakes he has made.

Once he walked the Earth for a while, taking great care to diguise his presence. He only did it once. After his wandering steps took him past a playpark he found he could take no pleasure in his exploration anymore. The children were so vibrant and cheerful and _young. _None of them would be growing any older when the Chitauri rained down on their world. The guilt he felt was sickeing and he left immediately, with their laughter ringing in his ears. For a long time after that he reminded himself that his attack on this world was the key to his freedom. This was the only way to ensure not only his safety but also the safety of his unborn baby.

_You're just a small bump unborn, and you'll grow into your skin. Fingernails the size of a half grain of rice._

He was with child for four months before he could first see her. A daughter. It was a luxury he could scarcely afford but he allowed himself an afternoon to lay in one of the few safe places he knew with his hands resting on the gentle swell of his body. He's fascinated by her, the way her tiny fingers clench and unclench with nails so small that he could hardly belive she would ever grow into a beatiful young woman. He was delighted to discover that she could hear him and he sang to her using lines from what few songs he could remember from his own days as a child. What words he could not remember he made up or hummed. He poured his heart out to her without fear of recrimination or judjement. It felt good to feel he unconditional love and trust. She had no room for any thoughts other than contentment and comfort and, for a while, he could loose himself in her peace.

Occasionally his body twinged in discomfort as it adjusted to internal changes from her presence. It was one pain that he welcomed. Rather than being threatening or disturbing it was an affimation of life that he was grateful to feel. As long as she was moving and growing, there was hope for him yet.

_Eyelids closed to be soon opened wide._

There were things he never wanted her to experience. The sickening touch of the chitauri was one such thing. Her eyes would be opened soon enough to the ugliness that came with life. He would protect her as long as he could from that truth. When the chitauri invaded his mind with their own, and touched his conciousness with tendrils of thought that left him feeling physically ill for days, he created a bubble around her so she would feel none of it. He shielded her not only from their touch but the pain it caused him and the effort he put into it was drawing on his energy. Instead of being healthy for her his strength was waning, leaving him unsteady. He was starting to draw on reserves of magic that he hadn't touched before and he rested as often as he could. It was worth it though. Anything was worth it to keep her eyes closed against the evil that was the chitauri race.

_You can lie with me when you're half asleep, I'll leave you be right in front of me for a couple of week. So I can keep you safe._

He had gone too far. The realiasation was a shocking one and it left him shuddering and afraid. There was no way to back out now, no way to back down and save himself. Midgard was a threat far more fomidable than he could ever have expected. The Avengers had a reasonable chance at beating him. The ending of his story would end entirely differently to how he had imagined it. And she would pay the price. His child, who had committed no crime except to love him, would pay the ultimate price for his stupidity and arrogance and there was no way he couls take it back. He stiffened his resolve. They would survive this, he told himself. He would see this out to the end and it _would_ be the ending he planned. And when it was all over he would sit with his daughter and watch over her until he could be sure that she would pay for none of his mistakes.

_'Cause you are my one and only. You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight. And you'll be alright._

He has had children before. He can remember how they felt, how they smelt, how they embraced him with fingers wrapped around one of his. He can remember what they looked like as they slept and what they sounded like as they breathed against his chest. He can also remember the pain when thay were taken from him. He didn't know enough to hide his first child. Odin had entered his chambers with fire and thunder spilling in around him and an expression carved from stone. He had pleaded and begged but his father had not stood for that which he proclaimed abomination. His child had been taken and he had been left alone with only brief memories of the perfection he had somehow managed to bring into the world. His hatred for his adopted father had been seeded then.

The next time he tried he was more careful. When he felt it was becoming too obvious he left Asgard. He told them that he wanted solitude for a while, that he wanted a chance to simply be himself. The world he went to was uninhabited and had no one to repert his presence. Odin still found him and his second child was taken in the same way as the first. His hatred, which had simmered away at the back of his mind flared into an inferno and, since then, he fed it. And his adopted world provided more than enough fuel for the fire that consumed him with a burning need for revenge.

_You were just a small bump unborn just for four months then torn from life._

The Hulk was far stronger than he'd ever expected and he paid for the mistake. He laid in the ruins of the floor, his body broken and twisted. Ignoring the pain, he forced himslf to reach out and lay his fingers over his belly.

His howl of anguish had nothing to do with the pain from knitting bones and stretching tendons.

He could feel nothing inside him. There was no trace of life inside him and the emptiness was a worse pain than anything brought about by his enemies. The will to fight drained from him and he fell back with a whimper. He had nothing left to struggle for. He could only lie there and listen to the destruction brought about by a race who never expected to be challenged. The chitauri were challenged, however, and he heard their defeat at the hands of a race that should have fallen like wheat before a scythe. Even when he was healed he could not bring himself to move. He lay and waited for whatever would come next and prayed they it would be death. There was nothing left to live for.

_Maybe you were needed up there but we're still unaware of why._

His adopted people believed that those who were pure of heart travelled to a better place after death. He hoped that this was true and that his crimes would not be held against his child. She deserved to live forever in peace and comfort. She deserved everything that he hadn't been able to give her. His prison cell is small and leaves him plenty of time alone with his thoughts. He could feel nothing except guilt and pain. There was no room left even for embarrasment when his enemies came to gloat over how he had fallen. He was almost surprised one day when Thor visited him. He had thought his brother would not wish to ever see him again. When he finally spoke Thor said only a handful of words.

"I forgive you," he whispered. Loki said nothing. He doesn't know if his brother was aware of what their father did. It is likely he never knew. But still, Thor speaks of forgiveness and Loki knows he will never be able to forgive. Just as he will never be able to forget.

**Thanks for reading, please leave some feedback! :)**


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